Sheen - The Insomnia Diaries

Peerzada Muzamil THOUGHTS      "It was the day when children went to acquire the light of knowledge and faded to the eternity of grim darkness; when teachers were giving lessons and received bullets in wage" It was one of the darkest hours of the human history. It was the hour which broke our hearts, which made the entire world aghast. It was the hour of disgrace which gave a chill to the nerves of humanity. It was the winter of bloodbath. And it all began that morning – morning of that December, the winter of which was less harsh than what it was going to witness; when the kids left their homes for school and never returned. It was the day when children went to acquire the light of knowledge and faded into the eternity of grim darkness; when teachers were giving lessons and received bullets in wage. It all began the morning when a bunch of terrorists, laden with lethal arms, misled by their distorted religious ideologies, committed the ferocious atrocity that

A Short Story Peerzada Muzamil "Let me dig more, let the more scorpions come out, and hairy spiders too, let me keep digging till the edge of my shovel hits the inhumed corpse..." I am coming for you, riding on this black stallion, in the moonlit night, and I am at the steep hill, just a few gallops away from your resort. Do you remember that cursed night, when I beheld you on the furthest of the churchyards, on the bleakest of nights when the wolves howled and the screaming ghosts hastened out of the distorted graves? It is since then I am craving for you.   The craving – craving to kill you – is consuming my soul just like a black hole consuming the fiery stars in the remotest of the cosmos. How iniquitous is it to kill an old stooping man, too weak to stand for even a while? But see, I am wistfully restive, for to obliterate your existence is my fervid desire.   See, now I’m exactly there, nothing could stop me from reaching the ceme

A Short Story Peerzada Muzamil "A stone knocked me down unconscious, and slowly and slowly, I bled to death..." I had always felt that my love affair would not remain draped for ever, knew that they know about it and lash me. But they'd stone me to death, I hardly gave it a thought, it didn't matter whatsoever. You see, I was as intrepid as a lone bear on hunt, any consternation hardly bothered me and nothing prompted to change the course of my mad heart. But, you see, had I known I would be killed, I would have been more cautious and clandestine. How does it matter now, I am dead anyway, but allow me to  tell you, every night, I would melt away in her arms, making love to her. Every night she would clasp me into her arms and rejuvenate my soul; her moist lips would inebriate mine and till dawn we would make love to each other and stare into each other’s eyes.   I never knew why I loved Najma, but I knew I did and did so with exuberant intensity. Pro

A Short Story  "How could a sane person cut anybody’s throat and then shoot in his head unless the murderer is fuming in limitless anger" It was quite unusual, that was the fourth night that I could not write a word. Possibly, once again, I was going through, what men of letters call as “Writer’s Block”. Writing Sadovsky’s cases during such times proved to be my solace, but it had been more than a month that Sadovsky solved his last – The Lighthouse Murder case. The clock on my desk showed 3:45 am and it was heavily raining outside. My fretful attempts to write seemed abortive and after putting ink-pot and the pen holder aside, I was about to puff the lantern off. Before I ventured to blow off the lantern and go to my bed, I heard few knocks on my door. I was sure it would be Sadovsky, I went downstairs, twisted the door open, and him it was – deep blue eyes, sharp face, blonde hair and ghastly wet and bedraggled. Sadovsky was a detective – most famous in Zend